Midnight
by Fairly Reliable Hemp Maiden
Summary: Dean leaned against Seamus’ bedpost and gazed at the boy before him. He lay on top of the sheets with his hands clasped beneath his head . . . One of those annoying plot bunnies. DEAMUS. Oneshot.


Midnight

by The Fairly Reliable Hemp Maiden

Disclaimer: I merely borrow Rowling's characters to fulfill my midnight muses and fantasies.

The night was clear with a full moon, filling the sixth year boys' dormitory room with pale light the fell in small patches around the bed hangings. Dean had his curtains parted enough to see out and was laying on his side. He often lay like this, watching the neighboring bed and it's sleeping occupant: Seamus. He had a small snore, the kind that could only be heard within a five foot radius, and had trouble staying under his covers no matter how he tried. Dean often watched him sleep in the moonlight, the only thing he could do: watch. Eventually falling asleep, he dreamt.

Dean stumbled into his seat at the breakfast table that morning with a not-so-stifled yawn. "Stay up studying again, Dean?" asked a fully awake Seamus. "Er, yeah. Studying," Dean answered into his plate, looking anywhere but at his friend.

"You know, with all this studying you're doing, you should be getting better grades than you are. Did you finish that Potion's essay last night? I'm nearly done. I'll finish up after lunch."

"Oh shite!" Dean had forgotten all about the essay. "Up all night and you didn't finish your essay?" Seamus raised an eyebrow at his friend. Their breakfast conversations were frequently in this pattern. Dean grabbed some toast and explained through a mouthful that he would use his morning study time to scrawl some shite for Professor Snape.

Dean and Seamus sat at a table in the common room, both attempting to write essays in the noise.

"Lavender fancies you."

"I beg your pardon!"

Seamus smirked at Dean, "I thought you would appreciate that tip-off. You broke up with Ginny a long time ago. Aren't you ready to move on?" Dean sat in silence. Did he hide it so well that his own best friend didn't see it? He was better than he thought. . .

"Well, I figured I'd focus on school right now. . ."

"Bull! Your grades are crap!" Seamus exclaimed. "Don't you want to get LAID?"

"Of course! But, not Lavender, she's atrocious."

"You got that right mate," Seamus winked. He gathered his books and half-finished essays. "Don't stay up too late, you wanker." He smiled and headed upstairs.

Dean attempted to work on his essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but his mind just wasn't in the frame of mind to be describing how to defend oneself against an Inferi. His mind was definitely on a more alive body safely tucked in bed above him. After fifteen minutes of failed attempts at the same sentence, he gave up and gathered his things. Dean's heart rate quickened as he climbed the stairs. Not wanting to disturb his room mates, he carefully tipped his work onto his closed truck and pulled his shirt off. Reaching for his pajamas, he paused when he heard his name whispered from behind him. Seamus was awake.

"Get anything done?"

Dean leaned against Seamus' bedpost and gazed at the boy before him. He lay on top of the sheets with his hands clasped beneath his head: a position he often took to think. The top two buttons on his pajama top were unbuttoned, revealing fair, hairless skin, his stretched out arms pulling the other buttons taut. Dean smiled and shook his head no. How could he concentrate with a beauty like the one before him haunting his thoughts day and night? "Me neither, I was distracted by someone tonight," Seamus whispered.

Dean swung the shirt in his hands and began to pull it on, "Oh?"

"I know you watch me at night." Dean froze with his head part way through the shirt, eyes poking through the top, mortified. Seamus chuckled, pulling himself onto his elbows, "Didn't you think I would catch on eventually? You're my best mate, I know all your mannerisms." Dean pulled the shirt on the rest of the way. He was not prepared to be confronted about his feelings, not yet. He'd planned in his head to tell Seamus on this own terms, or, better yet, not tell him at all and wait for the crush to run its course. Dean walked purposefully to his bed, pulled back the sheets, and tucked himself in, ignoring Seamus' chuckle. How could he find a moment like this humorous? Dean closed his eyes and lay frigid, willing Seamus to start snoring, but all he heard was the rustling of Seamus' sheets which could mean only one thing. . .

Feet padded on the cool floor and a weight on his bed shifted Dean towards it. He snuck a peek out of one eye. Seamus looked anxious. "Dean?" He opened his eyes.

Dean was reminded of their first year at Hogwarts. Eleven years old and missing his mother, Seamus had crawled into Dean's bed the first night and many nights after. They found comfort in each other's warmth which helped calm their homesickness. As they grew up, their visits grew infrequent and eventually stopped.

Dean pulled the sheet back and scooted over. Seamus crawled in and lay facing Dean, who stared at the ceiling. "You can't avoid me forever." "Yes I can."

"Dean. . ." Seamus touched his shoulder, inquiring Dean to look at him. "I watch you too." These words were not what Dean had expected. He whipped his face towards his best mate, who looked as if he may cry. His face was imploring, sad, and defensive, and a mere inches from his nose. "When we're doing homework . . . you haven't noticed that I don't get as much done as you?" Seamus quirked a small smile, attempting to lighten the mood. Dean didn't find it humorous.

"What are you getting on about?" he asked, looking away again. Seamus didn't answer right away, instead he leaned closer and lay his head on Dean's shoulder, an off-limit area back in the days of bed-sharing. Dean flinched. "We're too old for this. We grew out of this a long time ago."

"I don't think so," Seamus sighed. His nostrils were filled with Dean's scent, warm and spicy. He moved closer and smoothed his arm across Dean's chest. "Isn't this nice?" he whispered.

Dean sat up quickly, throwing Seamus off who rolled away in shock. "What . . . what are you doing?" Dean whispered harshly. His voice shook with anticipation and fear.

Seamus sat up and looked into Dean's eyes, leaning in, "I'm making the first move because you seem too inept to do so." And he kissed Dean softly on the lips. Pent up energy released from the two and heat filled the air within the bed curtains. Dean laid a gentle hand on Seamus' neck, pulling him closer. Seamus tickled Dean's lips open with his tongue and deepened the kiss. Now embracing each other fully, Seamus climbed into Dean's lap, teasing him with his touch. They fell back onto the bed, entangled, lusting and joyous.

Dean pulled away smiling, "Oh Seamus. I . . . I've wanted you for so long." "I know," Seamus kissed him, "and now we can do something about it."


End file.
